


When You Looked At Me

by asparrowonthemend



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: 1960s, Adult Content, Baby Pogo, But then he ruined it, Character Study, F/M, Fluff, Grace Hargreeves-centric, Human Grace Hargreeves, Reginald Hargreeves - Freeform, Reginald might have been a good man once, Romance, Slight Canon Divergence, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:15:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27249409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asparrowonthemend/pseuds/asparrowonthemend
Summary: How Grace and Reginald met, grew close, and then fell apart.Featuring a slight departure from canon. Tags will be updated as needed.
Relationships: Grace Hargreeves & Reginald Hargreeves, Grace Hargreeves/Reginald Hargreeves
Kudos: 19





	1. test flights

The control systems test is unnerving to watch, in spite of the hundreds of training hours she had logged.

The moment her thumb pressed the stopwatch, a green bulb flashed and directed her beloved subject into what was, hopefully, just another perfect test routine. Her eyes fixed themselves to the primate’s hands as he toggled switches and turned dials, chattering with what could be understood as self-satisfaction and an eagerness to please her. It felt like an hour, but after mere seconds, the chimp Pogo’s hands fell to his sides as trained and he looked up at her with eyes as wide as saucers. 

She clicked the stopwatch again and glanced down at the time, then let out a nervous laugh. Record time. She looked back up at Pogo, who waited with as much patience as a chimpanzee could, before throwing her arms out for a hug. She embraced him and sighed in relief. 

Grace had fought too long and too hard to make it to this room. A lifetime of being told she wasn’t smart enough, that she was too emotional, too kind, and too pretty to stand where she stood. That she was throwing away years that were to be her prime. But she was not only at Cape Canaveral to prove her detractors wrong, but to make history. Pogo’s launch would be another groundbreaking stop on the race to space. 

The crowded room began to empty with her colleagues rushing to record the results and federal officials departing to discuss the implications. But as folks dispersed, her eyes flickered up to one individual that lingered in the back of the room.

He was older, though by how many years she could not tell, tall, and sharply dressed. The way he held himself suggested government and radiated authority, but the gleam of a gold monocle and curious look in his eye spoke differently. His gaze was leveled at her and though she prided herself on not being one to shrink under even the most scrutinous of eye, she felt her heart _flutter_. He was watching _her_ , not the chimp cooing in her arms, only her. 

A warm smile appeared on his face and he dipped his head as if to praise her and tell her _’Well done’ _. It was a small gesture, but enough to rouse the butterflies in her stomach. It was almost embarrassing how girlish it felt. She smiled and exuded gratitude like the polite, well-raised Southern girl she was.__

__“Reginald?” A man’s voice called from the hall._ _

__The man’s face turned and his attention left her. He started towards the lab doors, slowing only to briefly glance back at her, then he disappeared out of view. She let go of Pogo and stood, eyes still hovering on the empty doorway. As a colleague collected the chimpanzee, she sighed again, and a tension she didn’t realize she’d been holding rolled off her back._ _

__“Grace? Here’s the footage for review.”_ _

__Reels were shoved into her hands and she looked down at the silver and black tapes. She nodded. No time for distractions._ _

__-_ _

__Grace reveled in her work. She regularly spent hours poring over recordings of Pogo. There were always subtle cues and movements to note, opportunities to optimize and improve his training. Her colleagues never stayed as late as her. Most of them had families and partners to return to at the end of the day. Those who didn’t, the single men who could afford to walk off the complex at five or six o’ clock on the dot, annoyed her. But she couldn’t afford to pass up the chance to outperform them through sheer dedication._ _

__She was alone in her shared office. It was dark, save for the screens that replayed three different angles of Pogo’s controls test. The footage was slowed down, which allowed her to take pages of notes for the handful of seconds that comprised the footage. She was sunk back onto her rickety office chair, feet kicked up on her desk, heels long abandoned on the floor, and a pen hung lazily out of the corner of her mouth. Her eyes drilled into the minutiae of Pogo’s fingers on a dial as she tried to ascertain if there was any hint of cognitive delay._ _

__A quiet cough broke her concentration. She jumped in her own skin and the pen fell from her mouth to the floor with a tiny clatter. Her eyes flew to the doorway where, to both her embarrassment and odd delight, the man from the test stood with an amused look on his face._ _

__“Oh!”_ _

__Grace corrected her posture immediately, and nearly fell over herself to stand. She smoothed her skirt down and began to slip her heels back on, tossing her notes onto her desk in order to balance herself._ _

__“I-I am so sorry, I thought I had the place to myself.” She quickly explained, eyes still glued to the man’s face. Her face felt flush as he continued to simply watch her, his smile never faltering._ _

__“My apologies if I have interrupted your work.” He gestured towards the room. “May I?”_ _

__She struggled with one of her shoes, but nodded furiously. “Yes, of course, please come in.”_ _

__He strode into the room languidly, apparently in no rush, and with a hand slipped into a pocket. He looked about the cramped office, eyes everywhere but her, before they settled on the slowed footage. His eyes narrowed in interest and his smile returned._ _

__“You are the lead on the chimpanzee suborbital test flights, correct?” He asked, still in a slow approach._ _

__Grace silently damned the dress code for requiring heels outside of the lab. She planted a hand on her desk and bent to guide the pump onto her foot. She realized as she slid the shoe on, that the man had come to a stop in front of where she stood. She straightened back up, careful to not knock into him, and found herself mere inches from him. His eyes were still on the screen, but her own trailed up his chest and neck, then finally to his face. His eyes were dark and sharp, and while she found the monocle a bit too old school for her own tastes, it suited him._ _

__His eyes flitted down towards her and the soft look in his eye caused her chest to constrict._ _

__“Yes, I am.” Grace swallowed, then took a step back. She held out a hand. “Grace Young.”_ _

__His hand received hers and it did not escape her how large it was, how it enveloped hers._ _

__“Sir Reginald Hargreeves. A pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Young.”_ _

__Sir? _Mrs._? She could not stop the playful grin that crossed her face. A man hadn’t tried that one in a while, though she’d never been approached by a _Sir_ before. She’d play along._ _

__She corrected him. “It’s just ‘Miss’, Sir Hargreeves. And most folks call me Grace.” This was not true, not entirely. She allowed her female colleagues to call her by her first name. All others, including her superiors, learned to use _Dr. Young_. She didn’t have her doctorate on the wall to look pretty._ _

__He lifted a single brow and his head dipped like it had earlier in the day. “Then you may call me Reginald.”_ _

__The air hung between them for a moment longer, before Grace remembered propriety and slid her hand out of his hold. Her cheeks were pink, she knew it, and so she moved towards the screens._ _

__“So, Reginald, I thought all of our observers left awhile ago for a fancy dinner of some kind,” She drawled as she stopped the tapes. She hit another button and prompted the reels to collect themselves._ _

__He let out an amused, confirmatory noise behind her. “We did, but I found it dreadfully boring. I thought my time was better spent exploring the complex.”_ _

__Grace glanced over her shoulder at him. “Did you? I don’t know, a fancy dinner sounds nice for a change.” She shook her head and watched the film spin. “You’re also not supposed to be here. Technically, no one without a pass ought to be able to get in after hours.” She picked the reels up and cradled them in her arms._ _

__“I thought of that, fortunately. I happened across this shortly after I left the laboratory,” He flashed an employee pass briefly before tucking it back into his suit jacket. “People are always leaving important things behind.”_ _

__“So they are.” She replied. She bypassed him and gingerly stacked the tapes on the center of her desk._ _

__“Is that why you’re here?” He asked, voice a fraction softer than before._ _

__Grace let out a little laugh, but faced him when he did not laugh along. “What do you mean by that?”_ _

__Reginald shrugged. The movement looked odd coming from a man with a monocle. “Why weren’t you at the dinner? Being who you are,” He gestured at her with his free hand. “The lead, that is. I would not have been inclined to slip out early if you were there, to elevate the affair from its disappointingly dull atmosphere.”_ _

__Oh, he was _good_. Grace smiled and gripped the front of her lab coat. “You flatter me, Reginald.” She pulled her coat open and let it sail off of her arms and back, catching it on an arm in one fluid motion. Her plain, custard-colored dress was far from her best, but it was as daring as the dress code allowed and better than the large coat, at least in front of a gentleman. “It is inappropriate for me to accompany officials and my superiors to such intimate social events.”_ _

__She reached beneath her desk and retrieved her handbag, then unclipped her employee identification from her coat and slipped it into the bag. She draped her coat over a wall hook. She did her best not to look at his face the whole time, and hoped she hadn’t come off too forward or rude._ _

__He spoke after another long pause. “I stand by what I said. Besides, my being here, in your office after dark, could be considered equally _inappropriate_.” _ _

__Grace finally looked up to catch a good-natured smirk on his face. She returned it. “You have me there.”_ _

__He offered an arm. “May I walk you to your car?”_ _

__The monocle, the pocket watch chain, the way he stood. Though old fashioned, it was…charming. But she wasn’t about to slip up or let her guard down yet. If her time at the complex taught her anything, it was that well-dressed men with distinguished sounding names were never quite what they seemed._ _

__She gave a long look at his arm, smiled, then walked right past him._ _

__“You may.”_ _

__She was a few steps down the hall when he followed suit, chuckling at her indirect refusal._ _

__The pair of them navigated the halls of the complex and rode the elevator to the ground floor in silence. She was afraid to look at him again, nervous she was letting her pride get in the way of some alluring, mysterious stranger. She clenched the handle of her bag tightly and forced herself to walk normally. They passed through the security gates, waved to the guards, and strolled onto the dark pavement of the employee parking lot._ _

__“This is me.” Grace said quietly. She gestured with her chin at the pale green coupe, eyes barely leaving his face even for a moment. It was strangely hard to breathe and a tingling sensation crept up her back and arms. Why was she _nervous_?_ _

__He didn’t look at her car, thankfully, she always felt embarrassed by its age. Instead, he lowered his head in a little bow. “I hope to see more of you, Grace.”_ _

__Her chest tightened again, and she pushed a lock of blonde hair from her face. Everything felt positively schoolgirlish. “I’d like that. Goodnight, Reginald.”_ _

__She climbed into her car, started it, and hesitated. Reginald remained where he’d left her. His eyes still fixed to her through the windshield. She waved with two fingers off the wheel, to no response, and finally made herself pull away._ _

__He grew smaller in the rearview and gradually, she relaxed into the seat. Her heart pounded and her mind raced, his gentle smile burned into her vision._ _


	2. crash landing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of saving Pogo.

Her heart fell as quick and as hard as Pogo’s capsule. 

Everything leading up to launch had been perfect. Pogo was in bright spirits, for a chimp, and even though he’d been afraid, he was easily ushered into position by her hand. She’d promised him, her sweet and funny little friend, that he’d return to her safely and would be rewarded for a job well done.

Reginald was there too, with a presence she could not ignore. She knew he would be in attendance and so she wore her best necklace, a string of pearls, even though they broke code. They’d shared a quick look when Pogo successfully completed his tasks in the cockpit, and the smile he granted her was enough to make her float right up there with the chimp.

Then the alarms rang and the escape protocol was triggered. A brief flash of Pogo’s shrieking, tortured face hit the screen and then it went black.

The recovery of his capsule and subsequent transport to medical was a blur, as were her desperate attempts at reviving him. The single point in her memory she could recall clearly, was the hush that fell over the operating room as Reginald appeared with a mysterious red serum in hand. Grace had felt mechanical when she stepped back to allow him to intervene. He had plunged the needle into Pogo’s chest without a thought. 

The next thing she could recall was how readily Reginald accepted her embrace. She’d practically leapt into his arms, face wet with happy tears, and _shivered_ when his hand slowly glided up her back. How his fingertips touched the very end of her loosely tied hair.

Then he was gone, just as quietly and smoothly as he arrived. Her team tended to Pogo and she monitored his vitals. She was happy he responded to basic prompts, though her thoughts drifted in and out of a strange fog. Reginald proved to be a man of action, and she liked that.

Eventually, Pogo was deemed stable and his overnight caretakers rolled him out of the med bay. Grace found herself back in her office, hands and arms freshly scrubbed raw, preparing to leave for the day. She was on autopilot, mentally exhausted, and ready to make her own crash landing on her bed. 

It was almost eight o’ clock, earlier than her usual departure time, but late enough that most personnel had cleared off the grounds for the weekend. Due to Mercury’s failed launch, she had a bulging folio of paperwork underneath her arm and was in the process of parsing out the next few days of work. She was caught up in thought when Reginald appeared out of the blue for the second time that day.

“Grace.” He called softly, tall frame tucked into a seat just inside the lobby doors. An empty styrofoam coffee cup sat beside him and his suit jacket was draped over a knee. It appeared he’d been waiting awhile. “Is Pogo feeling better?”

At the sight of his worried face, the memory of their embrace filled her senses. How soft yet firm he’d felt pulled against her, the faint smell of aftershave, the feel of his goatee scratching against her cheek when he pulled away. She smiled tiredly at the thought. 

“Yes, much better, thanks to you.” She approached him and waited as he stood up. “You really saved the day, Reginald. I don’t know what I would do if I lost Pogo.” She held a hand out to him. “How could I ever repay you?”

He took it before he spoke and shifted his jacket into the crook of his elbow. He didn’t shake her hand, but clasped it between his instead. “I assure you, my dear, I would gladly do it again.” He peered down at her through his sliver of glass before a small smile appeared at the corner of his mouth. It grew and he released her hand. “Though I do have an idea of how you could, as you put it, ‘repay’ me.”

She was tired, but she welcomed the mild flirtation. “Name it.”

Reginald gestured to the parking lot beyond the gates. “Would you accompany me for a drink? That is, if you are feeling up to it?”

Grace smiled, but did not answer right away. She wanted to tease him, this serious and old fashioned man, and make him think she’d even entertain the option to refuse. When his neck craned and he looked at her more closely, she relented. “I’d love to. It’s been a hell of a day.” 

-  
His car, to no surprise, was not one that he drove himself. The broad Lincoln Continental limousine felt almost garish as it glided down the streets, demanding the eyes of passerby. Grace felt so small and _poor_ for the first time in her life, and embarrassed for having shown him her beat-up coupe the last time they’d seen each other. She’d never been in a car with its own driver before, nor one with a privacy screen. In the back bench seat, she felt simultaneously too close and leagues away from her companion. 

He didn’t mention once where they were going and she didn’t hear his directions to the driver. She could guess. Options were limited on the cape as far as entertainment went, and Grace was only familiar with a few of them. Aside from her room at the ladies only residential hotel, where most unmarried women employed by the base lived, she seldom spent time anywhere else but work. 

The limousine rolled to a stop outside of a plain one story building, devoid of the flamboyant and bright neon signs most cocktail lounges and hotel bars had stuck out front. The building’ s entrance was canopied by a black stretch of material and guarded by a single doorman. The lack of light and people gave her pause, but Reginald laid a flat hand at the base of her spine and urged her indoors.

The simple exterior gave way to a warm foyer that fed into a dimly lit, wood paneled lounge. The space was unlike its flashier and more modern neighbors. Leather armchairs and loveseats were arranged in clusters around a central, circular bar. On either side of the floor, a dozen or so private booths with semi-transparent curtains awaited guests. Gold accents and tropical plants dotted the space and a thin layer of cigarette smoke hugged the air. The lounge was respectably busy, but not so packed that it felt stifling. 

Reginald led her around the lone host station. He nodded at a man behind the bar, and in turn the man pointed with a polished glass towards one of the alcoves.

He led her into the available nook where a clean two person table awaited them. Grace sat into the chair Reginald pulled out for her, and dropped her handbag at her feet. She glanced around the small anteroom curiously and admired the ornate designs carved into the paneled wall. Their table had a cloth cover and a single candle as the closest source of light. In her experience, the lounge was the kind of place wealthier people frequented, or perhaps where her superior’s superiors preferred to dine. Such establishments in her native Texas were typically reserved for men, and so Grace found herself doubly tantalized to be in such a space.

“This place is real nice, Reginald.” 

He hung his coat on a hook and took the open seat. “It isn’t the Regis, but I’ve come to value its respect for privacy and lack of frills.” 

A young waiter appeared at the mouth of their booth and began to unfasten the rope that held their curtain back. “Sir Hargreeves. Old-fashioned, I presume?”

“You presume correctly. Grace?” Reginald asked.

“Oh, a Tom Collins, please.” She smiled at the waiter and watched him disappear behind the curtain. A few seconds of silence followed and the realization that she barely knew the man she’d accompanied, without much of a discussion, dawned on her. A giddy bit of nervousness pooled in her stomach, but she turned to Reginald and flashed her best smile. “So, what is your interest in space flight? You don’t strike me as government.” 

He leaned on a single elbow and forearm on the table. His eyes crinkled like he held back a laugh. “No. I am an independent consultant _for_ the government. I’m afraid there are too many pesky rules required of federal employees.” 

Grace eyed him. It was an odd statement, one that felt _too_ open for interpretation. “I see.” She raised a hand to her pearls and brushed over them lightly with her fingertips. “You’re one of those ‘don’t fence me in’ type of gentlemen.” 

He smirked and his expression sent an odd yet wonderful shiver down her spine. “You could say that. Your government tends to view things in black and white, whereas I’m interested in what lies in the middle.”

Her smile faltered a bit at the ‘ _your_ ’, but before she could interrogate it further in her mind, the waiter reappeared with a silver tray.

“A Tom Collins for the lady, and an old-fashioned for the gentleman. Cheers, folks.” He slipped away to his next table.

Reginald lifted his lowball and looked directly into her eyes. “To human progress.”

Grace felt suddenly pinned to the wall under his dark eyes, and to her mild surprise, she didn’t _hate_ it. The look in his eye pushed past the slight skepticism she felt only seconds ago. She lifted her glass but hesitated for a moment, then added, “And Pogo.”

Their glasses clinked together and both drank.

She lowered her glass to the table and kept a loose grip on the tumbler. She wasn’t sure how to proceed as her first attempt at conversation seemed to fall flat. It was clear there was a line he did not want to cross, perhaps could not cross due to his work, and she understood she could not press the matter. After all, she could relate. She, herself, operated under numerous confidentiality agreements. 

He seemed to pick up on her hesitancy and he mercifully spoke first. “I must admit I feel a bit guilty, Grace, for monopolizing your Friday evening.” He swirled the contents of his glass slowly. “I forget that bright, young women such as yourself typically have packed social schedules.”

She blushed and hid behind her glass for a sip, though the gin only traveled straight to her warming face. “Actually, my original plans were to go straight home… I do not frequently go ‘out’ as I do not have enough people in my life to fill a datebook.” It was embarrassing for her to admit it, but she couldn’t bring herself to be dishonest with him despite his mystery. It was clear Reginald was a man of some means and connections, and he deserved to know where she actually stood if he had the slightest interest in her. She teased herself for allowing such a thought to cross her mind - assumptions were hardly attractive.

Her admission seemed to surprise him as the brow behind his monocle traveled upwards. “No friends or family?” His tone dropped a fraction. “…Boyfriends?”

Grace knew her face grew pinker every second, especially at his last query. The word sounded like it was in another language coming from Reginald. She smoothed the skirt of her powder blue dress and shook her head. “I was an only child, and my parents passed away when I was in college. I don’t have many close friends due to work.” Grace lifted her face to him and pressed a smile. “As for _other_ relations, again, I’ve found my work detracts from my appeal.” 

There’d been a couple of fellows, of course. Her professional circumstances often limited her already shallow dating pool. But there were the few that trailed behind her at work, ignorant of her work and research with Pogo. Whenever she was asked which typing pool she belonged to or which official she assisted, her answer typically doused their interest. And their interest usually disappeared altogether when she tried to explain her research. She studied him over sips of gin and tried to not look too hurried for a response. He knew very well what she did for a living, and he hadn’t seemed to mind so far. 

Reginald was quiet for a few minutes. He drank deeply from his glass and his mind seemed to chew on her explanation. When he set his glass down, he placed a hand on his knee and stared at her directly in the eye once more. “A pity.” The word drove a stake into her heart, but it caught itself on what followed. “I happen to find ambition and a strong work ethic attractive.” 

Her eyes widened at his forwardness, and her chest tightened enough to drive out her doubt.

He continued and his fingertips tapped on the edge of his kneecap. “It seems to me, that for all of its bravado, this town is sorely lacking in gentlemen with taste. Because you, Grace,” He paused and his eyes briefly darted into space as if to find words, “…are a catch.” When his stone-colored eyes came back to hers, an earnest light was held within them.

The tingling sensation in her nerves struck again, and this time it radiated down to her bones. Her hands on her lap trembled at his compliments and while her natural inclination was to take another sip of gin, she knew she’d spill the thing over the both of them. She felt that strange fog fall over her again and she reached forward. She laid her hand over his and stilled. “Are you…Do you flatter other women like this?”

Her question prompted him to smile, and a low chuckle to roll off his tongue. “Is it flattery if it is true?”

The heat on her face and liquid courage in her stomach spurred her forward. Her eyes fluttered closed and she leaned in.

“May I get you another, Sir Hargreeves?”

Her eyes snapped back open and found herself staring at Reginald’s turned face. His smile had fallen into a taut line and a glare that shattered something inside of her. He nudged her hand off of his, and pushed his empty glass across the table. “No, but fetch a glass of water for my companion.” 

Grace sunk back into her chair, feeling like a scolded child. Embarrassed tears pricked at the corners of her eyes and she wiped them before they could fall with the back of her hand. She had acted foolishly, and misinterpreted Reginald’s kindness as flirtation. 

The waiter popped in a second time and placed a glass of water on the table, which Reginald brought closer towards her with a pitiful look of concern. 

Grace shook her head then leaned down to pluck her handbag from the floor. She silently calculated the fare for a cab back to the complex to retrieve her car. 

“Grace.” Reginald gently intercepted her arm with a hand. His fingers slid down her bare arm slowly until his hand held hers. “I’m afraid you’ve misunderstood me.”

She froze at his touch, unable to ignore the way the faint hairs on her arm stood at attention, but hesitated to answer him. She _knew_ she misunderstood him, though they apparently had differing ideas on what she failed to grasp. 

His focus broke from her and burned into the drawn curtain. An impatient and dry laugh left him. “Should that damn waiter make a nuisance of himself again…” He squeezed her hand and sighed. “I am not sure how to properly express it, but from the moment I saw you at that very first controls system test…I have felt drawn to you.” Reginald swiped a thumb over the back of her hand. “You are intelligent, driven, clearly accomplished, and well, quite lovely.”

Grace’s lips parted in shock at the stream of compliments that poured from Reginald’s mouth. She closed them immediately at the risk of looking dumb, and swallowed. He looked at her expectantly but she was suddenly far too shy. “What are you saying, Reginald?”

He turned to face her completely in his chair. “I am saying that I would like to spend more time with you. To fill your datebook.”

She mirrored him, though her knees came to a stop against his at an angle. Her face felt hot and her stomach fluttered in excitement at his suggestion. She wetted her lips, amused at how his eyes flashed down to look at her mouth, and let herself lean towards him once more albeit more subtly. “ _Please do_.”

This time he did not turn away to shoo away an attentive waiter, but instead moved in and dipped slightly to press a kiss to her lips. 

It was warm but softer than she expected, but the ferocity and clumsiness of her former flings paled in comparison. She let out a small, muffled noise into the kiss as his free hand moved to frame her face. He parted from her briefly to kiss her again, lips brushing over lightly then pressing into hers more firmly. 

The stubble of his mustache and goatee tickled more than she thought they would, but she enthusiastically allowed him to kiss her again and again. He kissed with the energy of a much younger man, but with the experience and heat she hadn’t realized she’d ached for. The hand on her own edged up to her wrist and grasped it more tightly, and the tiny movement seemed to communicate his intentions. Her eyes fluttered open as soon as she felt him begin to pull away and she gazed up at him through her thick lashes in a haze of delight and attraction.

They sat in silence and the world continued to spin on the other side of the semi-sheer drape. His hand slid down her jaw with a single knuckle before it fell to his lap. He rubbed a circle on her inner wrist. The slight friction unspooled the heat gathered in her stomach.

His eyes pierced into hers with sincerity, though something primal lit them, and Grace saw him consider his words. “The last thing I want to do is offend you, but would you-“

“Yes.” She answered at once, voice emphatic and eager. “I think we should go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I became quite frustrated with two different word processors while working on this chapter, so I apologize for any grammar or spelling mishaps. Technology has won the battle, today.
> 
> Hoping you are all well, considering.


	3. gravitating body

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Following the incident at the consulate.

The police lights disappeared into the dark along with the Mexican consulate, and the town car turned silently into evening traffic. Reginald’s hand laid limp over hers and his eyes were fixed on a point in the blackness of night. Grace stared at the back of his head and tried to see inside of it for the millionth time in their relationship. They’d just escaped some sort of attack at the gala, a scene he had _hesitated_ in leaving, and now he sat next to her as if they were on their way home from another night at the symphony. 

She chewed over her questions. There was a line she could not cross. It was largely unspoken, but Reggie’s inclination towards cryptic comments and lack of subtlety in the art of segue made it clear enough. His work, whatever he did, wasn’t a topic of conversation or inquiry. And yet. She kept returning to a singular interaction of the evening, a single word, and she was sure Reginald knew what it was supposed to mean.

_Mom._

It wasn’t the word itself, but the _tone_ with which the shaggy-haired man said it. Addressed _her_ with it. A mixture of disbelief and eagerness tinged with an unmistakable sadness. Watching the realization rush across his face to snuff out the excited light in his eyes tugged at something maternal, but the man pushed the conversation quickly enough to Reginald, and his apparent disdain for their relationship. It was odd to say the least, but not necessarily out of the ordinary. Their courtship over the last year had become the talk of the base, and not everyone was pleased. Certainly not most of Reginald’s circles. She wasn’t _Dr. Young_ to his associates. She was just Grace, and no one ever asked about her work with suborbital flight. 

Whatever her conversation with the shaggy man preluded, she wasn’t stupid. It was related to their hasty exit.

She slid her hand out from under his and adjusted her fur. Reginald didn’t budge, didn’t even register she’d pulled away. She sighed and leaned back in her seat. 

***

Grace closed the lid of her jewelry box a bit harder than she’d meant. She glanced over her shoulder at the open bathroom door, where its light flooded their dimly lit bedroom. She unfastened the hook of her dress and took a breath, her mind made up. He could not avoid talking about the consulate forever. She tiptoed over the carpeted floor and into the bathroom, one hand out to gently tap Reginald on the shoulder. She looked at his reflection, and saw she’d caught him just after he’d taken off his monocle and tie. He glanced up at her, eyes dark and knowing, and he turned before she could reach him. 

She started, a small innocent smile on her face. “Reggie, could you...” She gestured at the back of her dress and pulled her hair over a shoulder. 

The pair exchanged places wordlessly. She leaned slightly forward into the counter, her eyes stuck on the sink in front of her. Her questions knocked into one another clumsily in her head and caught on her tongue. She wasn’t sure where to start, which was an unfamiliar feeling for her - she was used to knowing which questions to ask to pinpoint the answers she needed.

Reginald’s hands found and dragged the zipper of her dress down. The black fabric parted as the garment opened, and Grace hummed appreciatively first at the feeling of air on her back, then at the sensation of his palm and fingertips brushing over the band of her bra. She shivered.

“Are my hands cold, then?” He asked, voice suddenly at her exposed ear as his head dipped down towards her neck. 

Grace grinned reflexively as his lips brushed over her skin. Taking her to bed was one of the usual methods he employed to delay interrogation. She could try to use his appetite. She leaned into the kisses he peppered along her neck and arched ever-so-slightly back against him. It earned a satisfying noise from him. Reggie fancied himself above it all, a standout from all men, but it always paid to play into a man’s ego.

“They could be warmer.” She purred as he unfastened her bra and pushed both it and her dress from her shoulders. Her eyes flicked up from the sink to catch Reginald. They locked eyes briefly before he buried his face into her neck again in a renewed campaign to leave no inch of skin un-kissed. One hand rested on her hip and the other traced a torturous path up her back and around to a breast. 

“How should I warm them?” He murmured. 

Her hands caught the edge of the countertop with a low moan as he gently worked over a breast. “If anyone could figure it out, Reg, you could.” 

His thumb hooked itself over the skirt of her half-worn dress and pushed it down. After a few moments of his efforts, she was left her in only her panties and sheer stockings. He pressed into her, and the thin fabrics of his trousers and her nylon did nothing to disguise his desire. 

She allowed a few more kisses to her neck and shoulder before turning slowly to face him. She looked up directly into his eyes with a smirk. “You are overdressed.” It was her turn to grab at his clothing, hands intentionally fumbling and teasing as she unfastened the button of his trousers. She was determined to get him into the same state of dress and flattened her palms to his hips, fingertips working themselves eagerly into his pants. She tilted her head upward to kiss him.

“Grace.” He hissed a warning into her mouth as a hand strayed over to his front. Another warning, more urgent and pitched low with a sigh, “ _Grace_ ,” as she stroked him through his shorts. 

His hand grabbed at hers and thin fingers enclosed around her wrist to stop her advance. He drew her arm upward and placed his other hand on her hip. “You are unusually forward tonight, my dear.” He kissed the back of her knuckles, eyes never leaving her face.

She nearly rolled her eyes, but she resisted the temptation in pointing out the fact that he was the one to strip her down to her underwear. Instead, she stretched her captured hand to brush his jaw, reveling in how it clenched at the gentle gesture. “Well, a near death experience tends to put things into focus.”

His eyes darkened and she knew she’d successfully put a hook in him. “You were never in danger.” 

“Were you?” 

His lips pressed together in disapproval but drew her closer until they were pressed firmly to one another. An arm snaked around her waist to cement her position and he slowly started to back them both out of the washroom. 

Grace suppressed a laugh at his serious expression and settled on a self-satisfied smile. She flicked the light as they passed the switch, plunging both the en suite and bedroom into near complete darkness. The lamp on her vanity provided little light, but just enough for her to appreciate the twitch of Reginald’s mouth as it fought off a grin. She allowed him to turn as they approached the bed and let herself be seated close to the edge. 

He knelt down slowly and reached for the band of her nylon and underwear. She cursed herself for the blush that gradually filled her cheeks, but the view of Sir Reginald Hargreeves _kneeling_ stirred something in her. She raised herself up for a moment as he cleared the fabric from her hips and bum. She struggled to keep her legs still as he followed the nylon down with his mouth, taking care to plant more kisses over her thighs, knees, and calves. She swallowed as he bunched her stockings and underwear into a ball, and unceremoniously discarded it.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

He sighed and pushed himself back up to loom over her reclined form, hands focused on shedding his button-down. “No.”

Grace tilted her head and dropped her eyes to his fingers which quickly worked their way up the column of buttons. “‘No’ you were not in danger or ‘no’ you are not answering my question.” 

He paused momentarily to glare down at her tiredly, but tugged his shirt off before moving to finish her handiwork with his trousers. “Grace, you know there are aspects of my life on which I cannot speak openly, my work being-“

“Being chief among them, I know, but…” She worried at her lower lip. “That strange man tonight called me - don’t laugh - _’mom’_. Like he mistook me for his mother.” She looked up to study his reaction, a small and unsure smile on her face. “I didn’t think I had that many laugh lines.” 

“My dear, the last thing you need to concern yourself with is wrinkles.” Reginald stepped out of his pants and shorts, then kicked them aside. “That man was a drunkard of some kind. A lunatic that slipped by the consulate’s poor excuse of security.” 

Grace sighed and smoothed back a few pieces of stray blonde hair. “I don’t know, he knew my name, he knew your name…” 

The pieces of information stopped him in his tracks momentarily. Reginald moved towards her albeit with a degree of hesitancy and his eyes darted about, obviously working on some kind of explanation. It came to him after a moment. “Well, the newspapers are often little better than gossip rags, are they not? My name is no secret, neither is our relationship. Presumably he recognized you and thought to ask after me.”

“And what if he was the murderous kind of lunatic?”

“Then he would have been dealt with posthaste. I assure you, Grace,” He reached downward and gently took a length of her hair between his fingers. He let it run between them before continuing. “We were in no real danger tonight.”

She stared up at him. He was waiting for her, at least her agreement, but she shook her head once. “You don’t understand how much I worry, Reggie. If something happened to you…” Grace trailed off, not wanting to picture it. 

He let out another frustrated breath and started over her. He covered her with himself, arms bracketing her head as she laid flat beneath him. For a moment he simply looked into her eyes. Grace recalled how shy she used to feel beneath his gaze, but how she would look for a nod or smile of approval across a crowded demonstration or meeting. She understood the feeling better now - it was more akin to a pinning, as if he were some entomologist and she another subject. She fascinated him in some way and despite their being together for the better part of a year, his strange sense of wonder had not worn off. Yet.

Perhaps she pushed too far. 

Grace slid her arms out from beneath him and brought them around his neck to pull him down to her in a kiss. He returned the kiss and deepened it, his whole body relaxing into hers like a sigh. 

As they parted, his forehead dipped to touch hers for a second before he pushed back up to hover above her once more. “I’m asking you to trust me.” 

Her lips pursed together in consideration. The most Reginald shared of himself in the last year had been the bed and even then, despite the heat between them, he felt as distant as ever. She opened her mouth to answer him, but another kiss put her short-lived interrogation to an end. 

***

Grace kicked against the sheets as he pushed and pulled against her in a crashing rhythm. Her arms hooked under his, scratching and clinging desperately to his back as he worked through his pace expertly. The head of his cock jerked against that particular spot inside of her. It fanned the flame that grew in her stomach and etched itself into her very bones. Her eyes were hooded with desire and it became more difficult each time to open them.

 _Need_ was written over his face. All traces of his usual stoic, if not cold, expression were gone. His brow was furrowed and his eyes in a dark state of lust as he pored over her every expression, twitch, and moan. One hand clamped itself over her hip as his thrusts became gradually erratic and deeper, while the other, which had been planted on the bed to steady himself, moved to her stomach. It trailed downward until his thumb brushed over her clit.

She gasped as the digit passed over the bundle of nerves again and again. His ministrations did not slow or stop as she writhed against his touch. Her walls of muscle pulsed and clamped around his length as the pressure within her danced on the head of pin. He adjusted his hips slightly to jerk and shudder into her deeply, the movement accompanied by a string of curses. A series of sensations - his thumb, shallower thrusts, the last of his spasms inside of her - brought her to the finish line, almost screaming his name as he pulled her into a tight embrace. She bucked against him, vision blurred and wet with tears of relief. 

His breath was hot and ragged against her neck. He had slipped out of her as soon as he could, but kept his weight pressed atop hers as if to keep her tethered while her body experienced aftershocks. For a few minutes, all Grace could hear were their breaths and ticking of the clock. 

At last, he rolled off of her and stood up to retrieve a clean pair of shorts. He disappeared into the en suite, and Grace was left slack on the bed. The blissful fog slowly cleared from her mind and left her with a trail of thoughts that led straight back to the consulate. She rolled her head to look in the direction of the bathroom and listened to the rush of water. 

To his credit, he warned her from the start that much of his life would be kept from her. He gave her several outs in those early months. She even came close to ending it seven months in when he neglected to call her for three weeks due to his work. But then he’d come back to her, to their bed, with his apologies and promises. 

Lost in thought, she didn’t realize he flicked off the bathroom and light and returned to bed until he spoke. 

“Penny for your thoughts?”

She looked up to catch his amused smile, then moved to take her turn to clean up. “It’s been a long night.”

Her legs still felt like they were in a semi-solid state, but she ignored their shakiness and moved past him. But his hand on the crook of her elbow stopped her and she looked back, biting her cheek to stop herself from asking why.

Reginald stared down at her and he rubbed at her arm. His smile was gone, but his voice came to him quietly and with a touch of warmth. “One day I hope to share everything with you, dear.” 

_’And all I can do is try to wait.’_ Grace replied silently. She searched his face for any hint or tell. Finding none, as always, she smiled weakly and squeezed his hand on her arm. “One day.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *pokes head in* Sorry for the delay. After the US Election, work and life became very busy for me. With things slowing down as we get closer to the winter holidays, I have found myself with some time to work on my side projects - this included! 
> 
> I think the last time I posted, we still had not heard about Season 3 or not. Well, I'm sure I'm not the only person that *cheered* when the good news came out! I am so glad we get another season with our favorite idiot family. God I hope I get a little crumb of Grace Hargreeves backstory.

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t think we know Grace’s surname yet, so I chose ‘Young’ for now. I borrowed it from Pearl I. Young, the first female technical employee at the National Advisory Committee for Aeronautics. I am *trash* at coming up with names on my own, so I hope you all are alright with my choice.
> 
> Let me know what you think of this so far! I think Grace and Reginald are fascinating characters, and I liked the glimpses we got of their relationship when Human!Grace was still in the picture. Big props to Jordan Claire Robbins and Colm Feore for their portrayals.
> 
> I really think that at one time, Reginald was a slightly better person, and that his relationship with Grace was partly responsible for that. I've been wondering where he took a nosedive and became more of the abusive bastard we know, and I definitely think her leaving (and NOT saying that it is her fault, it was 100% her right to leave) might've been that point. I don't know, what are your thoughts?


End file.
